Anything
by textbooknarcissism
Summary: "Can you talk to me?" - "About what?" - "Anything." She had asked for anything, and he gave her everything. Peter/Olivia.


At 3:47 AM, Olivia heard knocking on her door. The reverberation of the loud bangs bounced off the walls and echoed throughout the small room. It was a hotel room in Vermont, where the Fringe team was staying while investigating a case.

She sat up in bed and blinked a few times before rubbing her eyes, and groaning sleepily. Her eyes adjusted to the hazy darkness as the knocking continued. She pulled the covers back and swung her legs to the floor; pausing momentarily as a small throbbing headache set in. Her hand reached for the light switch, as her other hand covered her eyes when the irritating brightness filled the room. As her eyes readjusted to the light, she noticed the hideous color of the olive green wallpaper. The knocking seemed to get louder, and Olivia sighed and heaved herself out of bed.

She stretched and yawned, before shuffling to the door. As she unlocked the deadbolt and pulled open the door, she scanned her visitor from the bottom up. Black sweatpants, a blue t-shirt with faded M.I.T. lettering, and sleepy looking blue eyes.

"Peter?" Olivia asked, as she once more rubbed her eye sleepily.

"Hey there, sleepy head. Sorry to wake you," he flashed her a tired smile. "Walter kicked me out of the room and refused to let me back inside because there was a dancing leprechaun on the couch that he didn't want disturbed."

It took Olivia a moment to fully understand Peter's situation, her tiredness not assisting in her attempt to gather her thoughts. If Walter kicked Peter out, he needed somewhere to sleep. The only place he could go was here. With her. In her room. Olivia stepped aside to let Peter inside without a word, while he gave her a slight nod of thanks. She silently cursed herself as she shut and locked the door once more; turning around to see the same thing Peter saw. In Olivia's tiny hotel room, was a single queen size bed, a study desk, and an office chair.

Olivia slowly walked toward Peter and stood beside him, as he opened his mouth to speak.

"I can sleep in the tub, I've done it before. Better than listening to Walter."

"No, no, that's alright," she smiled slightly at the thought of Peter sleeping in a bathtub.

"Alright..."

Silence filled the room, and the two began to feel very awkward in their own way. Olivia walked past Peter, and got back into bed and under the covers, sighing comfortably as she did so. Peter sat down in the chair in front of the desk, looking at Olivia, who had a hand on her forehead with an added look of discomfort; despite the fact that she was the one in the bed.

"Peter?" She asked, with slight hesitation.

"Yeah?"

"Can you talk to me?"

"Talk to you?" His voice sounded just a tad puzzled.

"Sorry, I know it's strange.."

"I've seen stranger in the lab, and heard stranger from Walter himself," he retorted. "But I'll talk to you. About what?"

"Anything," she whispered. Peter gave a small smile.

"Story telling requires that the storyteller has at least a decently comfortable place to sit, and this chair doesn't count," Peter laughed.

Olivia, too, chuckled, while she lifted her arm and patted the unoccupied side of the bed; inviting him to come sit. Peter looked dumbstruck, as he was only joking, but stood up and walked to the bed either way. He looked down at Olivia, who was looking back at him, blinking tiredly, but smiling nonetheless.

"Okay," Peter started, "Let's see..."

And his stories began. His talking continued long into late morning, and for the majority of the time, it was just Peter talking, as Olivia had fallen asleep almost as immediately as his voice had began speaking. As the rays of the dawn began to peek through the cheap hotel blinds, Peter also fell into the comfortable darkness of sleep.

...

When Olivia awoke the next morning, she had a smile on her face. She was warmer than usual on a morning, and she could hear a sound that followed a steady rhythm, accompanied by a simple rise and fall. Her right hand tingled with an enjoyable sensation, and the slight smell of mint was in the air. As she blinked a few times, allowing her eyes to adjust to the light of the morning, she wiggled her fingers. Other fingers were slipped between hers, and both her eyes and brain woke up as though a bucket of cold water had been poured on her. Peter's hand was entwined with hers, her head was resting against his chest; his own head leaning slightly on her own. The minty smell coming from his even breath as he slept peacefully.

Olivia looked up at him with disbelief in her eyes, until she remembered that this was his fault. She had let him into her room, invited him to her bed. A part of her had wanted it, while another part wanted to reject him.

Something told Olivia to back off drop Peter's hand, to scoot as far away from him on the bed, as possible. But another something, something that seemed stronger, contradicted that. She didn't want to wake him, he was tired, after all. Olivia closed her eyes once again and faked ignorance, remembering that ignorance is bliss. As she reveled in the sweet smell of mint, and Peter's warm embrace, she listened to the gently rise and fall of his chest. All she had done was ask him for anything, but instead, he had given her everything.

...

**A/N: Fringe is my favorite show ever, I love it so much. I'm sad that I have to wait until Sept. 27th for Season 2 to come out on DVD, and I haven't seen like any of the episodes from it yet. But I've seen every episode from Season 1 like 12 times. Reviews make me happy, and I love the chemistry between Peter and Olivia :) **


End file.
